


a fine chance

by sabinelagrande



Series: two flints [10]
Category: Taskmaster (UK TV) RPF
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Victorian, Backstory, Bittersweet, Father-Son Relationship, Flashbacks, Gen, Greg Davies Is Trying, If you don't think I'm building up to the OT3 you're sadly mistaken, Mentioned Asim Chaudhry/Alice Levine, Mentioned Asim Chaudhry/Russell Howard, Orphans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabinelagrande/pseuds/sabinelagrande
Summary: Asim remembers it one way.
Relationships: Asim Chaudhry & Greg Davies, Asim Chaudhry & Russell Howard
Series: two flints [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639948
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	a fine chance

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place somewhere not long after "worse things waiting". A general warning for the state of street children in the Victorian Era. You feel me.

Russell still finds the Taskmaster House fascinating. He's never actually been inside a bordello, and one that is half girls and half criminals- not that they're not technically all criminals- is particularly fascinating. It's even more fascinating to be meeting Asim's Papa, who Russell sort of thought was dead, the way Asim talks about him. It's definitely hard to reconcile the way Asim talks about Papa with an enormous man dressed like an undertaker who seems to be able to command two dozen people with a wave of his hand.

This is only the second time he's been here. The first time was very brief and led to his maybe being lightly involved in a criminal endeavor, though he still wasn't sure what kind. This time, Asim insisted on going, unbidden, so that he could make sure that their work paid off, that everything is really okay.

But, strangely enough, it turns out that it is. Asim refers to the beardy guy who follows the Taskmaster- Greg- Papa- around as Alex, and it's Alex whose safety Asim was really worried about.

"Because I know he makes you happy," is the only thing Russell was able to make out from Asim and the Taskmaster's conclave. Both Russell and the assistant had not been invited, and they kind of sat off to the side and regarded each other curiously.

Fascinating.

Asim finishes his work, and the Taskmaster approaches Russell. He looks Russell up and down like he can see directly through him.

"I'm trusting you to keep Asim out of trouble," the Taskmaster says, and Russell doesn't need to be told that there will be dire consequences if he does not.

"You can count on me, sir," Russell says firmly, looking him steadily in the eye, or as steadily as he can manage. He's probably also looking steadily at someone else, but that's unimportant.

The two of them are escorted out; actually, Asim just walks out and Russell is escorted to follow him. They don't get terribly far, just through the corridor that separates the two worlds, where his escort leaves him, and to the staircase that leads up to where there are probably a lot of naked breasts.

Russell assumes. Again, never been in a brothel.

"Hello," a voice says from the staircase, and both Asim and Russell turn to look. There's a young woman on the staircase. She's very lovely; she has those sort of classically cute features and textbook red hair, cut so it makes the most of its natural wave. A lot of her is blocked by the balustrade, but what Russell can see is more than enough to be enticing. It is extremely hard not to look at her extremely hard; any man would be interested, and quite a few women.

She of course is looking directly at Asim and not at Russell at all, as is the standard procedure.

"You're the Taskmaster's son," she says.

"I hope my reputation didn't proceed me," Asim says.

"Only the good bits," she says. She reaches down from the staircase, holding out her hand. "I'm Alice."

Asim shakes it, instead of taking the obvious opening to kiss it, which Russell finds fascinating. "Asim."

"I know," she says, smiling.

"We should talk sometime," Asim says. Russell has never seen him be this smooth in their entire acquaintance. It is bizarre to watch it working.

"Well," Alice says. "You know where I am." With that, she gives him a smile that can only be described as flirty and walks up the stairs.

Russell looks at Asim, who's watching her go. Asim is hooked.

But Russell's fascination with Asim beats out Asim staring up at where Alice has gone; Asim moves before Russell does, turning and walking towards the door. "Come on," Asim says. "I'm starving."

"I said we should have eaten beforehand," Russell says.

"Yeah, but we didn't," Asim says, and Russell good-naturedly rolls his eyes.

Asim sets out onto the street, and Russell follows. Asim is just about the same height as Russell, which is to say, short; it is a relief to have a business partner he isn't constantly running after. Instead, they have a perfectly normal kind of walk, back towards the more respectable part of town, or at least the one that the two of them live in.

As they walk, Russell considers Asim, who doesn't notice. He knows Asim very well, and also he doesn't know anything about him at all. Before the day he dragged Russell out of their office to bring him to the wrong part of town, he had no idea about Asim's father. All he really knows now is the Taskmaster is some kind of crime boss and clearly not Asim's birth father. He has his doubts about them being legally related at all; the Taskmaster doesn't look much like a Chaudhry.

With someone else, Russell might well just sit down in front of them and go "What's your whole deal?", but Asim wouldn't do well with that. He'd make a joke and then shy away from the question, and Russell would have to make an ass of himself to get anything out of him.

"You-" Russell says, because maybe it's better to float part of it and see what happens. "Look, mate, I don't want to insult your intelligence-"

"Then don't," Asim says good-naturedly.

Russell hooks his thumb over his shoulder. "But the girl, back at the Taskmaster's place-"

"Alice," Asim says, and it sounds a little romantic.

"Alice, yeah," Russell says. "You know that- it's like flirting with a shopgirl, yeah? They're just trying to sell you something. You can't get attached."

Asim stops, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't gonna do this," he says. "I thought we could avoid it."

"Avoid what?" Russell says.

"There are a lot of things I haven't told you," Asim says.

"Too right," Russell says.

Asim starts walking again. "I said I came from a hard part of London and when I was coming up it was mostly me and Papa."

"Yeah," Russell says.

"That's a very condensed version of the story," Asim says.

\--

There are always hangers on, in this kind of lifestyle. Greg knows the value of them; a kid you pluck off the street to deliver a message is expendable, but then they do another job, and then another one, soon maybe they're somebody worth having in your crew. Greg has largely not employed this method, but he cannot be said to run a gang.

There's a little Indian kid who runs around among them; not a common sight, also not an uncommon one. He's kind of pudgy, which Greg doesn't begrudge him, and he seems to be quick-witted, especially for his age, or what age Greg takes him for.

He bugs the _shit_ out of Greg.

He's decided Greg is his favorite person in the world, so he just kind of hangs around, asking questions, wanting to know too much. Greg, because he's Greg, is a little flattered and a lot frustrated. He can't just tell a kid to go fuck himself and feel good about it, but Greg has things to do.

But the kid- Asim, his name is- keeps showing up, and Greg keeps entertaining him quite against his will. It's bullshit, frankly.

\--

"From when you were a kid?" Russell says, perplexed, because it doesn't fit the image of Asim that he has. Asim's a little rough around the edges; he doesn't sound proper, but that's something Russell shares. He doesn't seem like he was a street tough, especially as a child.

"Yeah," Asim says, sounding unbothered. "It wasn't exactly great, but things got better with Papa."

"The Taskmaster," Russell says.

"I only have one Papa," Asim says, looking at him askance. "Of course Greg."

\--

Asim is being particularly pestersome today.

"Where'd you get that knife?" Asim says, pointing to the one that sits at Greg's waist. It's a nice piece that he won in a bar bet, a story that is amusing. Asim _loves_ that story, for reasons unknown to Greg.

Greg has told him the story more than once, just to get rid of him, but today he's had enough. He's not going to go through it another time; he has things to do. Roisin's breathing down his neck because he keeps dodging her about whether they're going to take the offer they've been given from the Irishman that Greg wants to work with. He just doesn't like the terms of the agreement, and he hasn't been able to make up his mind as to whether it's worth it.

What's not helping is this kid who won't leave him the fuck alone.

"Don't you have parents to annoy?" Greg says snidely.

"No," Asim replies, completely calmly, in the way that says it didn't happen recently. That one's Greg's fault; that's not exactly a rare state for a kid like Asim.

Greg frowns uneasily. "Where are you sleeping?"

Asim shrugs.

"Well I'm not having that," Greg says, because his mind is made up in an instant. This child is deeply annoying, but he is, somehow, _Greg's_ annoying child. Rhod's room is still empty, Greg not having found someone else to share the rent yet. Greg is essentially just going to dump Asim into it and tell him he can have the bed, but that's more than Asim has now.

Greg stands up, walking off, and Asim watches him go.

"Come on if you're coming," Greg says, and Asim is up in an instant, following.

"You are aware I am a very bad person," Greg says.

"Yeah, I gathered," Asim says.

"You are aware I am not going to change just because you are living in my flat," Greg says.

"Of course not, Papa," Asim says, and Greg is so thrown by it that he just doesn't correct him.

"You are aware I may expect you to abet me in multiple crimes," Greg says.

"I can do that," Asim says confidently.

"Then I suppose that's sorted, then," Greg says.

\--

"Life got better after Papa adopted me, but really, how could it not," Asim says. "I hadn't had a home since my parents died."

Russell tries to think about that and can't. His father was a hard man, to be sure, and things got better after Russell moved his mum to London, but he can't fathom what it would have been like to have neither.

"But it was fun living with Papa," Asim says, sounding sincere. "Wasn't exactly what you would call a glamorous life, but it was an adventure."

"That's something," Russell says, not knowing what else to say.

\--

Asim is thrashing in his sleep, obviously in the throes of a nightmare. Greg goes to him without thinking about it. He sits down at the edge of the bed and grabs Asim by the shoulders.

"Asim," he says, shaking him. "Asim, wake up."

Asim gasps, struggling in Greg's grip for a moment before coming to. Greg lets him go, and Asim lays back down, still breathing heavily.

"You alright?" Greg asks.

"I'm fine, Papa," Asim says, which he isn't.

Greg forgets sometimes that Asim isn't a short adult. He's a boy without a family who's trying to survive. Greg took him in because it felt like an imperative, like it was obvious. He almost certainly bit off more than he could chew, but now he's in this.

"Does it make you feel better if you call me Papa?" Greg asks gently.

Asim looks vulnerable; Greg's never seen him look that way. "Yes," he mutters.

"Then I'm your papa now," Greg says.

"Thank you, Papaji," Asim says, sitting up and hugging Greg tightly.

"Go back to sleep," Greg says, but he holds Asim to him for a moment before letting go.

Greg doesn't sleep for a long time. He hopes Asim does.

\--

"Hang on," Russell says. "Doesn't really follow, does it?"

Asim frowns. "What doesn't follow?"

"Yeah, Greg, your dad, whatever, just because he was a criminal doesn't automatically mean he spent all his time with prostitutes," Russell says.

Asim gives Russell a look like he's just said the sky is purple. "Mate, who do you think populates the underworld?" he says. "If Greg doesn't hang out with prostitutes, why do you think he lives in a brothel?"

"Um," Russell says. "I hadn't thought about it."

\--

"How do you teach children?" Greg says, a little morosely, as he sits in Sally's office, nursing a glass of gin. "They want to _learn_ now. I didn't know how to read until I was twenty."

"Why don't you teach him?" Sally says, because she did not buy that this was a hypothetical question.

"Do you have any idea how wretchedly pisspoor I would be at teaching?" Greg says. "I'm not going to inflict that on my own-" He stalls out, like usual.

"You're allowed to say 'son'," Sally says gently, like she has said to him before.

"Anyway, the point is that he's very bright and I'm fucked if I can do anything about it," Greg says. "Are there tutors? Is that a thing? You hear about it."

Sally sighs, but it sounds fond instead of exasperated. "You tell him that if he'll do chores for me, I'll teach him."

Greg frowns. "Really?"

"My bartender quit, and Sian doesn't know I know she's saving up to leave," Sally says, looking tired. "Asim is a polite, funny young man with a good attitude. I could use that around the place. You don't like him playing lookout and risking his safety. Here, worst case scenario, we get raided, he has to slip out the back and run for it."

Greg knows it's a little more dangerous than Sally likes to make it out to be. He also knows she's right. Asim's too good for what Greg's got for him. Working in a brothel may seem like a lateral move, but learning to read and write instead of how to work a blade is an incredible step up.

"I will give him your offer," Greg says, knowing Asim will take it.

"He is welcome to start as soon as possible," Sally says. Greg fully expects to have to restrain Asim from running straight here, possibly physically.

\--

"So if it seems like I don't think it's weird to chat up a prostitute, it's because I don't," Asim says.

"Huh," Russell says. He thinks he's a pretty cosmopolitan kind of guy, but that self-image is being heavily tested. "So you, ah, you stuck around?"

"I worked for Sally for a while," Asim says, like it's nothing, and he catches Russell eyeing him. "I didn't work for Sally like _that_ ," he says. "Trust me, nobody ever mistook me for anything but the bookkeeper."

Russell, who thinks Asim is enormously attractive, has not mentioned it, and is not planning to mention it, just nods noncommittally. 

\--

It's just that sometimes, Greg looks at his son and knows they are diverging.

It's a bewildering thought, especially because Greg's having a son at all was an accident, and not in the normal way that having a son comes about by an accident. Greg has avoided that version so far; he really does not need two children.

But the son that Greg somehow has is in the nice suit that Sally bought for him; there's a little too much brocade for it to truly look respectable, but Asim doesn't look like a street kid. He looks like a young man.

Greg feels incredibly old, even more so than he is.

Greg is sitting with Roisin, who he's just made tea for, watching Asim adjust his hair in the glass that's on the wall by the door.

"Hey," Greg says sharply, pleased he can still make Asim jump. "You are supposed to be learning. The kind of learning you do with your pants on."

Asim grins. "I can't study all the time."

"Jesus Christ," Greg sighs, and Asim is out the door.

"This isn't going to last much longer," Roisin says.

"It's really not," Greg says, though Roisin actually came over to talk business. "This isn't what I want for him."

"Nah, didn't think you did," Roisin says.

Greg rubs the back of his neck. "I put some money away."

"How much?" Roisin asks.

"Enough that 'some' isn't a very good descriptor," Greg admits. "He deserves more than this."

Roisin shrugs. "I kind of like this."

"This is-" Greg says, making a hand motion. "This is fine for me or you. We could be doing a lot better."

"Granted," Roisin says.

"But I decided to take care of him, and the best thing I can possibly do is get him out," Greg says.

"You made up your mind already," Roisin says. "Why are you asking for my approval?"

"I-" Greg starts. He frowns. "I guess I wasn't, actually."

"Done, then," Roisin says, sipping her tea, because Roisin has a way of making things sound simple, wrapped up with a bow, even when they're not.

It's kind of admirable. Sometimes Greg hates it.

\--

"Okay, and so, then you came to me," Russell says, the picture finally forming. "And that's why you knew how to run a business-"

"And not how to actually establish one or find contacts," Asim says.

"And you had a shitload of money-" Russell says.

"And only kinda knew where to take it," Asim says. "That's when I found you."

\--

Greg doesn't like to think about it; maybe that's because it went fine.

Nothing about it was wrong. He gave Asim the money and Asim was so thankful and so earnest, and when he told Asim they had to go their separate ways, he took it seriously and hugged Greg and told him he'd always be his Papa.

There was nothing to reinterpret. There was nothing he'd have done differently.

Nothing to think about at all.

\--

"So you just gave it up like that?" Russell says. "I see the money, and it's not coming in from anywhere other than it should be."

"Why would I need to do something like that when we're doing great?" Asim says.

"We are doing pretty well," Russell allows, though they are doing great. "And so you just don't see anybody you grew up with? Not even Greg?"

"We write letters, but these are the only two times I've seen Sally's since I left," Asim says, and for the first time he seems something other than happy-go-lucky. "It feels weird to sneak around to see your dad, but sometimes we go to a park and talk and shit."

"That's-" Russell says, but he can't find the words to finish out the sentence.

"Don't feel bad for me," Asim says. "He's doing well and I'm doing well. He was there when I needed him, and now we don't need each other anymore."

"Now _that_ is a fucked up way to think about it," Russell says.

Asim smiles. "Eh, I was a little fucked up to start with," he says. "Now come on. Walk faster."

"I'm walking the same pace you are," Russell says, but he speeds up when Asim does.

\--

Alice peers through the window on the second floor landing, the one that points not to the outside but into the back room. The Taskmaster is sitting his throne; he has one elbow on one arm of it, resting his head on his hand. He looks pensive, maybe like he's contemplating something. It's fascinating to watch him and his assistant, because the assistant reads it immediately. He puts a hand on the Taskmaster's other arm, saying something to him, and the Taskmaster laughs, looking lighter.

Alice lets the curtain go, covering the window again, but when she turns, Miss Sally is standing behind her.

"Miss Sally," Alice says, a hand to her chest. "You gave me a fright."

"I need to speak to you," Miss Sally says, and Alice doesn't like how grave she sounds.

"Of course," Alice says.

"You need to be careful," Miss Sally says, and Alice knows immediately what it's about. "The Taskmaster would never harm you and neither would I, but that's his son, and the Taskmaster is very adamant that he never be involved in anything less than legal."

"Okay," Alice says, feeling more than a little disappointed but not willing to show it. "Thank you."

Miss Sally eyes her for a moment. "But Asim's such a darling," she says, melting a little.

"He's so cute," Alice says.

"He used to be a heartbreaker around here," Miss Sally says. "He was an awful flirt, but then it was right back to his work. No followthrough."

Alice frowns. "Around here?"

Miss Sally sighs. "Let's talk," she says, putting her arm through Alice's. "I think maybe you need to hear this story."


End file.
